Jaune Gets Replaced!
by JKrlin
Summary: One-shots in which the role of Jaune Arc is played by a character from the Assassin's Creed series. Latest replacement: Malik Al-Sayf!
1. Game of Emotions - Haytham

Pyrrha Nikos wasn't quite sure what to make of Haytham James Kenway.

On one hand, Haytham was one of the few people Pyrrha has met who knew nothing of her reputation as the four-year consecutive Mistral Regional Tournament Champion. In their first meeting, Haytham had only recognized her as a cereal box mascot. With that degree of unfamiliarity, striking up conversation with him came easily. There was no enthusiastic praise and reverence like from her fanatics, or the predatory stares and smirks from her challengers. Haytham only sported the same polite, courteous smile as Pyrrha always wore. Both of them sought and offered an optimistic hand at friendship, and Pyrrha leapt at Haytham's offer without hesitation.

On the other hand, while Haytham was nothing if not a gracious gentlemen with regards to the members of Team JNPR, he was a harsh critic of Team RWBY's supposed "childish" behaviors and "juvenile" mannerisms. RWBY had quickly become a part of Pyrrha's proud circle of friends at Beacon Academy, so it left Pyrrha conflicted on whom to side with whenever Haytham went on to criticize those friends time and time again.

Pyrrha hoped for a peaceful, friendly gathering between the teams when JNPR and RWBY gathered at the library. Ren was reading through texts for Doctor Oobleck's upcoming exam, Nora was napping, and Pyrrha was catching up on her latest "X-Ray and Vav" comic issue, hiding it behind her textbook so Haytham wouldn't lecture her about it. The members of Team RWBY sat at a nearby table as they played a board game together.

"Would you kindly host your game of world domination elsewhere?" Haytham asked aloud. He sat back in his chair as he penciled something into notebook. "If I recall correctly, people come to libraries for the pursuit of knowledge. Not to play a children's card game."

The teary-eyed Weiss and Ruby were weeping together due to suffering severe losses in their game. Pyrrha felt for them. Either of them could have easily won if not for Yang's hidden trap cards. Ruby cried out to Haytham, saying, "You just don't understand our pain, Haytham! The whole of Remnant was ours for the taking!"

Yang snickered sinister cackles, not too uncommon whenever she was teasing her little sister. "Remnant is mine! It's all mine!" Yang turned to nudge her partner. "Alright, Blake, you're up."

It took Blake a few moments to respond. Blake seemed to have been in a half-distracted daze for a few weeks now. Pyrrha wasn't sure what exactly was wrong. Despite Team RWBY informing Pyrrha's team of Blake's former allegiance to the White Fang, JNPR wasn't privy to everything going on with the yellow-eyed Faunus.

"Huh?" Blake asked as her team looked at her expectedly. She jiggled the cards in her hands. "Oh, um, sorry. What am I doing?"

"One of your teammates is obviously not as passionate about conquering Remnant as the rest of you are," Haytham called out to the team. "Might I suggest refocusing your efforts on something more productive? Instead of playing at warfare, perhaps direct your energies into improving your combat skills so that you may one day defeat Team JNPR in dueling class."

Each member of JNPR was among the top of the ranks in Professor Goodwitch's dueling class. RWBY's members were ranked just below them, and that remained as a point of contention between Haytham and Yang.

Yang relished in the challenges Haytham constantly presented toward her team. Pyrrha enjoyed a little friendly competition as much as the next person, but the way Yang met Haytham's taunting eyes with a cocky smirk made Pyrrha feel more uncomfortable than she is willing to admit.

"Come on, Haytham," Yang purred with that same grin of hers, "why do you always have to be such a spoilsport?"

"There is plenty of sport in many activities: fencing, sailing, acrobatics, and so forth. The same cannot be said for board games."

The beautiful blonde rolled her eyes. "Says you. We used to have Remnant: The Game competitions all the time back at Signal. Any guesses for who the reigning Queen of Games was back in the day?"

"Yang Xiao-Long? A Queen?" Haytham gave an unimpressed snort. "I would sooner believe young Rose to be the reincarnated Grim Reaper in disguise than entertain the possibility of you bearing royal blood in your veins."

Weiss, once she wiped away her tears and recomposed herself, regarded Haytham with a reconciliatory look. "Honestly, Haytham, we're only having a bit of fun. There's no harm in taking a break from our work every once in a while." With Weiss' connections to the Schnee Dust Company and Haytham's regal attire and attitude, Haytham was the most benevolent to Weiss out of all of RWBY.

"Don't bother, Ice Queen," Yang interjected as she waved a dismissive hand. "Haytham's gonna keep on hating no matter what it is we do."

Blake mumbled something under her breath. Citing weariness, she resigned from the game and walked off.

"Why don't you play with us, Haytham?" Ruby piped in. "Since Blake left, you can play as Vale."

Clasping his journal shut, Haytham set down his pen and folded his arms. He gave Ruby a flat look. "And what makes you think I have any inclination of playing?" Haytham wrapped his knuckles against the underside of the table. Nora woke up with a sniffle.

"Pancakes!" she groggily spat out. Before her head could drop into slumber again, Haytham lifted his left wrist and extended his hidden blade. The sharpened edge was a breath away from Nora's chin.

"Do try to remain awake during our study hour, Nora," Haytham ordered plainly. "Should you begin to falter in any of our classes, I will have to assign you remedial material myself."

Nora made a childish whine. Ren rubbed a reassuring hand against her back.

Pyrrha decided to step in. "I often played Remnant: The Game during the time between tournament matches," she said as she closed her book and turned to Haytham. "It's actually an exhilarating game that requires lots of strategic planning to win."

"Simpler games fill those needs quite well," Haytham countered. "Fanorona, chess, Nine Men's Morris, or checkers even."

"But the complexity with multiple cards and game pieces with various abilities makes for very unpredictable matches." Pyrrha recalls once being defeated because her opponent had used special courtesan units to sneak into and capture her capital city. Pyrrha had paid her opponent in kind in the ensuing tournament match. "It keeps you on your toes, forces you to improvise on the spot. I've had my fair share of unconventional victories with the game."

Ruby practically hopped in her seat. "See, even Pyrrha likes playing Remnant! Play with us Haytham!" Cute, innocent puppy dog eyes were rarely an effective trick against Haytham, but Ruby attempted it anyway. Pyrrha applauded the effort regardless. Perhaps this was the olive branch needed for a more amiable relationship to flourish between Haytham and Team RWBY.

Haytham adopted a contemplative expression as he stroked his chin. "Valid points. If your recommendations ring true, Pyrrha, perhaps I will dabble in this game. Still, what's say we make the parameters around this activity a little more interesting?" With his free hand, Haytham held up – held up Pyrrha's "X-Ray and Vav" comic? Pyrrha opened her textbook and found only a diatribe on the impracticality using a chainsaw as the bayonet for an assault rifle.

Ruby's eyes boomed into ginormous proportions. Her body shaking, she pointed at the comic cover with unconcealed excitement. "That's part of the special limited series! Where did you get that? It's not supposed to be out yet for another month!"

Haytham merely tipped the front end of his tricorn hat in Pyrrha's direction.

"Why, Pyrrha?" Ruby's eyes became watery as she fixed her gaze on the red-haired warrior. "Why would you keep something like this from us!?"

Pyrrha's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Defensive, she answered, "If you want to read it, Ruby, you're free to do so." Though tiresome of her reputation as a Regional Tournament champion, it did have its perks at times.

"Not so fast," Haytham said. When Ruby tried to filch the comic from him, Haytham held his hand high and the book away from her. "Let's say I partake in this little board game of yours. Should you win, Pyrrha shall gift her entire collection of comics to Team RWBY."

"What?!" Pyrrha stared at her partner in astonishment. "Why would I –"

"Deal!" Ruby cut in with the widest grin across her face. She was practically jumping in her seat, but Yang extended a hand and planted her sister firmly on her bottom.

"Not so fast, Ruby," Yang said, watching Haytham with a twinkle in her eye. "What do you want if _you_ win?"

Haytham set the comic book down. He left Team JNPR's table and made his way to Blake's seat. "I would like to examine Weiss' rapier and use it in a few spars."

Weiss raised one of her eyebrows in curiosity. "Why would you want to duel with Myrtenaster?"

"The blade itself is nothing uncommon. It is the rotating dust chamber that interests me. I have never fought with a sword with such a design, and would like to personally see how it fairs in combat."

Pyrrha had to admire Haytham's boldness. Few Huntsmen and Huntresses liked to share their custom-made weapons tailored for their unique needs and talents with other people. Weiss' pride and personality only made it even more unlikely of her to acquiesce to Haytham's terms.

At Weiss' doubtful countenance, Haytham extended his hidden blade once more. "I shall add my own weapon to the table. If I conquer Remnant, I shall get to learn about the creation and application of Myrtenaster in greater detail. If I fail, I surrender my blade and Pyrrha's comic book collection." After removing his bracer accompanying the blade, Haytham offered his hand to Weiss. "Are we in agreement?"

"Yes!" Ruby wholeheartedly declared. She went on her knees and bowed down to Weiss. "Say yes, Weiss. Say yes. Please!"

Chuckling, Yang punched Weiss in the shoulder. "Yeah, shake his hand, Ice Queen. This is the most fun Haytham's been all year."

Pyrrha, with some hesitation, raised her hand. "Excuse me, but Haytham, I haven't agreed to letting my collection be used as a bargaining tool."

"Oh, but you have, Pyrrha," Haytham replied. "Though I greatly respect you as my combat partner and a good friend, my position as the leader of Team JNPR takes precedence. As such, you have already informally agreed to whatever disciplinary actions I deem fit for unruly behavior."

While Pyrrha felt greatly complimented at being considered a good friend, she frowned. "I may not have been studying lately as I should have, but –"

"And the cause of that slacking in studying is that comic collection, hence why I have put it at risk." Haytham gave Pyrrha a playful smile. "Come now, Pyrrha. Do you honestly doubt my ability to win?"

"Well, I…" Pyrrha paused and pondered Haytham's words. He still spoke as assertively as ever, but didn't he detest playing what he considered to be a childish, inane game?

"Alright," Weiss said with a resolute nod. She clasped Haytham's hand and firmly shook it. "Team RWBY agrees to your terms."

"Then let the better Hunter win," Haytham said.

While Ruby gave an eager cheer, a feral grin that showed off glistening white teeth spread across Yang's face. "You're going down, Kenway."

As it turned out, Haytham was much more well-versed with the ins and outs of Remnant: The Game than he let on.

Not fifteen minutes after Haytham took Blake's place, Ruby was planting her face against the table as she sobbed to herself, Weiss was staring blankly forward in stupefied silence, and Yang's eyes and hair were flaring in dramatic bursts of color. Haytham had since removed his hat and coat, sweat wearing down his face with a stern glare pointed at the game board.

"This is it, Haytham!" Yang cried, pulling a card out from her hand. "With that last move, you've just activated my –"

"Need I remind you yet again, Yang?" Haytham interrupted. "With my spy units still hidden among your forces, your trap cards have no effect."

"That's the catch, Haytham." Yang stomped the card down hard, causing a long crack to stretch across the wooden table. The board and game pieces were unbroken, thankfully. "If I roll a ten or higher, then those spies are all dead men!"

"Ah, but since you've played that card, I must spring my own trap." Haytham spun the card between his fingers before holding it up for display. "Even if you do roll a ten or higher, my vanguard will be able to bypass the last of your naval defenses. The City of Mistral will be completely surrounded, and so its fall will then only require one more turn. Are you truly willing to take that risk?"

Yang gritted her teeth. She shook the dice in her hand with a growling hum under her breath. "I guess I am."

Pyrrha – who now stood behind Haytham alongside Nora and Ren – resisted her urges to look away and instead forced her eyes to remain on the game. Haytham had almost flawlessly defeated Weiss and Ruby with Blake's fairly depleted forces. Then, it became a close match of wills between himself and Yang. Forgoing any pretense of studying, the rest of Team JNPR stood by their leader and looked on with barely-contained anticipation.

Friends of Team RWBY – Sun and Neptune, they had introduced themselves as – had joined the audience and were cheering Yang on.

"Don't do it, Yang," Neptune advised. "If you can hold out for another three turns, the wild Grimm will take care of Haytham's land forces. You can take back the northern villages and turn the tide back in your favor!"

"Not unless Haytham's got another trap card under his sleeve," Sun said. "He's got Yang cornered. Damned if she does it, damned if she doesn't. I say do it, Yang! Roll the dice! You've got no other option!"

With a final gulp of precious fresh air, Yang threw back her arm before tossing the dice.

Pyrrha held her breath. She could hear the beats of her own heartbeat as she watched the small white blocks tumble across the board. Each time the dice sprung off the board, the sound echoed through her ears.

Finally, the dice stopped rolling. The number: ten.

As Yang's turn ended and Haytham's began, Haytham had his units cut through Yang's. After playing another card and another role of the dice, Mistral fell, and Haytham was victorious.

Nora screeched a celebratory rumble. "Ha! We won! Remnant now belongs to Team JNPR!" Nora picked up one of the royal-looking game pieces and began to chant, "I'm Queen of the Castle," striking poses as she did so.

"I… didn't know you would be so good at this game, Haytham," Ren said plainly. He seemed to be at a loss for words. Pyrrha shared his sentiments.

Sighing, Haytham wiped his arm across his forehead to get rid of the sweat that had been slowly pouring down from his hairline. "I am a man of many talents."

Pyrrha clapped her hands together. "Congratulations, Haytham." Her smile was balanced with a curious tilt of her head. Was it really just pure, natural talent that let Haytham win, or was it something else?

Haytham met Pyrrha's gaze and caught on to what she was silently asking. "In my youth, I once had the misfortune of being trapped on an ailing airship for nearly two and a half months," Haytham said. "There was little to do to pass the time, save for the menial games the crewmen had brought aboard. My opponents vastly out-skilled me, and in the process, they taught me much."

Ah. "So you are skilled at the game, but you associate it with bad memories?"

Haytham laughed an honest laugh, one that Pyrrha hasn't heard from him in a long while. "No, not bad memories. Simply old ones. My father originally taught me how to play. Being the rambunctious child that I was, I was overconfident in my ability to win. My time practically stranded on that ship proved instrumental in humbling my attitude."

Yang, her hair relaxed but irises still red, scoffed. "A humble Haytham. Yeah. Right." No doubt tired and bitter, Yang sauntered off.

Haytham reequipped his hat and gauntlet. Offering up his hand, Haytham regarded Weiss with a sympathetic smile. "I believe I am owed spoils for my efforts, no?"

Despite her obvious reluctance, Weiss handed over her rapier with the appropriate Dust rounds. "I expect you'll return these in a timely manner?"

"But of course." Haytham held the handle of Myrtenaster tightly. He made a few experimental swings with it. "I trust that there are no hard feelings between us?"

Weiss looked to Ruby, who seemed to still be sobbing and avoiding everyone's eyes. To Haytham's question, Weiss only shrugged.

"Splendid." Haytham glanced at Nora, who was now lording her game piece over Sun and Neptune. "Ren, your partner is growing rabid again. Please ensure that she does not cause any more damage to any persons or property." Wordlessly, Ren obliged and approached Nora. Turning to Pyrrha, Haytham asked, "Up for another spar?"

Pyrrha quietly lamented the fact that the relationship between Team RWBY and Haytham remained somewhat strained, but at least Haytham wore an earnest smile on his face. He was often too focused on making sure JNPR kept up on their studies to take a respite and simply enjoy life. Those moments of repose and comradery Pyrrha shared with Haytham were moments Pyrrha deeply adored and enjoyed.

"Let's," Pyrrha replied. She and Haytham left the library and made their way to their usual sparring spot. All the while, they shared teasing smirks. After a long day of studying and laughter and tears, the only thing left on their minds was a desire for a good fight.

Haytham was a good friend to have. Pyrrha hoped that as their time in Beacon passed, their friendship could grow into something more.


	2. Heed My Warning - Malik

If Pyrrha was being honest with herself, there were only three times she could recall when she was honestly afraid for her life.

The first was when she first encountered a Grimm. At the time, she was a child who could barely stand on her own two feet, let alone have any chance of escape with the monster standing over her with its salvia dripping down to her head. Its guttural growl was a terrifying sound, the likes of which Pyrrha had never heard before. The red eyes that conveyed so much hatred so blatantly had given her nightmares for weeks on end. Had Pyrrha's father not rescued her, those nightmares would have been the last thing she would ever remember.

The second time Pyrrha had honestly feared for her life was during the final match of her third Regional Tournament. At first glance, her opponent was not of an uncommon type. Majd Addin was a bully, a coward, and a cheat among his peers – not unlike Cardin Winchester – but his skill with his thermic lance-shotgun hybrid nearly overcame Pyrrha's own abilities. A great many trainee huntsmen and huntresses remained in the infirmary far longer than usual if they had fought against Majd Addin. Previous tournaments even before Pyrrha's birth rarely saw so much brutality and cruelty. The possibility of losing the tournament wasn't what bothered Pyrrha, however. It was her opponent's demeanor, his tactics, the expression on his face that he paraded throughout the tournament that unsettled her.

Pyrrha always tried to treat her adversaries with the mutual respect every warrior was due. The adrenaline and gratification from a good fight was often best when shared earnestly, whether it's with an ally or an enemy. This particular opponent, on the other hand, did not see Pyrrha, or any of the other tournament fighters, as either.

"Do you know what it feels like to determine another person's fate?" he had whispered into her ear when he had her pinned to the floor. "Did you see the way the people cheered? The way they feared me? I was like a god!"

Pure evil was something all Grimm embodied and encompassed. Prior to the third Regional Tournament, Pyrrha believed humanity was the absolute opposite to Grimm in all fields. The words Majd Addin spoke, and the burn scars he left on the side of her abdomen which Pyrrha has since always done her best to hide, would convince her to think otherwise.

Thankfully, Pyrrha defeated her opponent, as she did all the others before him.

The third time was very different compared to the previous two instances. Before, her fear came from tangible monsters that were physically threatening her wellbeing. With the blood and skill of a Huntress, such monsters can easily be dealt with. Unfortunately, this new thing that strikes fear in Pyrrha heart was no monster.

Can she do it? Can she give up not only her life, but also her body and soul for the greater good? All Huntsmen follow the rhetoric of fighting and sacrificing for the greater good, but is Pyrrha capable of actually doing it?

She can fight. She can always fight. Pyrrha has dedicated over half her life to fighting. Giving up, surrendering herself completely so that another innocent and powerful Huntress could live, is something else entirely.

Pyrrha certainly did not want to die, or cease to be her own person, but if it meant protecting Remnant from an outbreak of war…

"Safety and peace, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha lifted her head up. Standing before her was her partner, Malik Al-Sayf. He wore a calm smile on his face. In his right hand, he held a stick of cotton candy. His left hand, his whole left arm, was entirely absent from his body save for half of the upper arm. The folded sleeve in its place waved with the breeze flowing through the air.

"Why do you hold your head down so low? You are usually in high spirits during the preamble of a tournament match." Malik offered the cotton candy to Pyrrha. "It lacks the same nutritious value as Ren's green goop, but it should still help." More startled than anything, Pyrrha simply accepted the snack without objection.

"Uh, right. Thank you, Malik." In the corner of her eye, Pyrrha could see Ren and Nora walking in the distance. Her and Nora's eyes met, and Nora dragged Ren off to the direction of the fairgrounds.

Malik sat down beside Pyrrha. He inhaled and exhaled a steady, calming breath. The smell of the candy mixed with scents of the drifting tree leaves was admittedly a pleasant aroma. Pyrrha didn't feel all that hungry, so she only held onto the cotton candy stick loosely. She and Malik wordlessly looked on to the twilight horizon.

It was these kinds of moments that Huntsmen fought preserve, but it was also these kind of moments Pyrrha may have to give up to uphold her Huntsmen duty.

"I have always lived my life by the Creed," Malik said suddenly. Pyrrha gave him a sideways glance. His gaze remained on the bright orange sky. "I have told you of the three tenets. Revere the blood of the innocent. Be one with the crowd. Never betray the trust of the brotherhood. These tenets fall under a maxim I've neglected to mention: Nothing is true; everything is permitted."

Pyrrha's frown became more pronounced at Malik's last statement. "That last line doesn't really sound a lot like you." Though not at first, Pyrrha looked at Malik as a considerate leader and an even better partner. He wasn't cynical enough to have such a nihilistic or pessimistic worldview.

Malik echoed a mirthless laugh. "You would be surprised by the kinds of people who follow the Creed. One of my brothers put it simply: Our creed does not command us to be free. It commands us to be wise."

"You have brothers?"

Pyrrha saw no change in Malik's face or voice, but she could tell his mood grew more solemn. "I have many brothers and sisters, but two of them I hold very close to my heart. Kadar was my younger brother. I feel as if I raised him more than our father raised his own sons. My other brother, Altair, was the one who helped me better see the wisdom of the Creed." Malik's small grin grew thinner. "For longer than I should have, I held Altair responsible for Kadar's death."

Slowly, Pyrrha turned her head to look directly at Malik.

"Our master sent the three of us on a hunt. Altair was our leader, and despite my own jealously and recklessness guiding my actions, I casted all blame solely on Altair and his arrogance for putting us in unnecessary danger. He broke all the tenets of the Creed, and as a consequence, Kadar lost his life."

Words of comfort nearly leapt from Pyrrha's tongue, but she said nothing.

"Though Altair was punished for his insolence, he was still held in high esteem among our order. My… misguided hatred for Altair heavily clouded my judgement. I felt betrayed not only by my brothers, but by our master as well." Malik clenched his fist. "They are the reasons for why I came to Beacon, why I forged my transcripts, and why I deceived you, Ren, and Nora for so long."

Pyrrha had thought Malik faked his way into Beacon because he was desperate to become a Huntsman. That was only partially true, then. He was also desperate to escape past pains and tragedies.

Trying terribly to find the right thing to say, Pyrrha mumbled, "I'm sure… they didn't mean…" A small breath of air, a gasp, flew out Pyrrha's lips. Her grip on the stick of cotton instantly fell apart. Malik's bare palm covered Pyrrha's gloved hand. Their interlocked fingers folded over one another.

"You showed me forgiveness," Malik continued. "I feel as if I did little to earn it, but you offered it regardless." Malik's dark brown eyes met Pyrrha's own green pupils. "We are one, Pyrrha. As we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. In this way, we grow closer. We grow stronger. As you have helped me during my indecision, allow me to help you."

Soon enough, the surprise dissipated from Pyrrha's tense shoulders. She relaxed and leaned against Malik's chest. The fabric of his clothes was sturdy but comfortable. Enjoying the warmth, Pyrrha shut her eyes. "You're already helping me," she said.

They sat together for a little while longer.

"Malik," Pyrrha said, breaking the silence. She removed herself from her partner and turned back to the horizon. "I don't know what to do." Pyrrha felt Malik's eyes on her. She had to be careful of what exactly she said. She couldn't just give away the secret of the Maidens, but she couldn't be entirely deceitful either. "Do you believe in destiny?"

A small chuckle was Malik's initial response. "Nothing is true, Pyrrha. A man's fate is not determined by some divine power, but by the actions committed by himself and by the men around him."

Pyrrha nodded. Her interpretation of destiny somewhat matched Malik's. "When I think of destiny," Pyrrha explained, "I don't think of a predetermined fate you can't escape, but rather… some sort of final goal. Something you work towards your entire life." The look on Malik's face expressed contemplation. While he thought over Pyrrha's words, she pressed on. "What would you do if something came along that you never expected? Something that had the potential to stand between you and your destiny?"

"That would depend on –"

"Or what if you could suddenly fulfil your destiny in an instant, but at the cost of who you were?" Pyrrha blurted. She wanted to speak with more poise, but all of her uncertainty and anxiety was bubbling at the seams and was threatening to burst out completely.

Even Malik was beginning to give up the pretense of a calm conversation. He leaned closer and placed his hand on her upper arm. "Please, Pyrrha, speak sense."

"None of it makes sense!" Pyrrha couldn't look at Malik in the face. She pulled herself to her feet and stepped away from him. "This isn't how things were supposed to happen."

Behind her, Pyrrha could hear footsteps following after her. "Then tell me exactly how events have not transpired as you had desired. I cannot help you if you do not confide in me, just as you could not have helped me had I not confided in you."

Malik had a point, but Pyrrha's dilemma went beyond personal drama. Had Malik's ploy to enroll in Beacon failed, he still had the opportunity and means to discover himself elsewhere. If Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow Branwen were right, then Pyrrha's quandary would potentially decide the fates of every nation and every being on Remnant.

The deep breath Pyrrha took did little to alleviate the pressure building inside. "I've always felt as though I was destined to become a Huntress. To protect the world. And it's become increasingly clear to me that my feelings were right, but…"

Pyrrha faced Malik. His brows were bent, one end of his lips curved downward. He was obviously frustrated, either with Pyrrha's intentional ambiguity or in his inability to quickly help Pyrrha find her peace. If only he knew that merely being here with her, his hand outstretched for Pyrrha to grab onto, was more than enough to restore some of her faltering confidence.

"I don't know if I can do it," Pyrrha said.

It didn't take long for Malik to answer. Maintaining their gaze, he grasped Pyrrha's hand and held it closely over his heart.

"You _will_ become a Huntress, Pyrrha," Malik asserted. "It is the destiny you have chosen, and you have worked hard in order to achieve it. You have the tools, the skill, and the devotion. Whatever doubts you have now must be quelled if you are to harden your conviction. To rid yourself of those doubts… well…" Another genuine smile widened across Malik's face. "You are the Invincible Girl. The top student of Beacon Academy's Dueling Class. The Mistral Regional Tournament Champion, and soon to be Vytal Festival Tournament Champion. You are all of these things, but, most importantly, you are Pyrrha Nikos. Whatever challenges that stand in Pyrrha Nikos' way, no matter how strong or resilient those obstacles are, she will always overcome them."

A melody of tears began to slide down Pyrrha's face.

"If not, then I, Malik Al-Sayf, pledge to stand beside her and ensure that Pyrrha Nikos will fulfil her destiny."

Pyrrha pushed Malik away. When he tried to approach her again, she used her semblance to push him and his armor back against a wall. Muttering meaningless apologies, Pyrrha ran off.

The only true obstacle standing between her and her supposed destiny was Malik himself.

The thing that made her afraid now was not simply the threat of harm by an enemy. Now, it was the devotion to a dear friend that instilled fear into her heart.


End file.
